Shot to Pieces
by Misha
Summary: Sam reflects on the damage bullets can do.


Shot to Pieces   
By Misha 

Disclaimer- These characters are the property of NBC, Aaron Sorkin, or whoever. I'm not writing this for profit in any way, shape, or form, but because I have a lot of spare time on my hands. 

Author's Notes- Okay, this is a very depressing Sam piece that I did **not** mean to write. It's angsty and dark and is set far in the future. I don't know what inspired me to write this, but I did. Well, that is all, enjoy! 

Rating- PG-13 

Spoilers- In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, Noel, I am not sure what else.   
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They say that lightning only strikes twice. 

If only the same could be said about bullets. Twice I stood witness as bullets were fired. Twice I heard the shots of gunfire being shot at people I love. 

The first was a nightmare. A horrible moment in time, that I hoped I would never experience again. 

But as bad it was, the second time was worse. The second time I was older, I had gone though Hell and hoped that I never would again. But I did. 

Twice I saw bullets fired and twice I asked why I escaped unscathed. Twice my body was unhurt, but my soul was broken. 

I was young and idealistic the first time. 

It was the year 2000 and it was President Josiah Bartlett's first term in office. I was doing what I had always wanted to. It was like living a dream. A dream that would soon be dulled by bullets. 

The bullets were fired by children and aimed at children. They were aimed at Zoey Bartlett and Charlie because they had different skin colours and they were in love. 

Neither of them was shot that night. Instead the bullets hit four other people, including my best friend. 

Josh almost died that night. It was only because of a miracle that he survived. That his life did not end that night. 

Things were never quite the same after Rosslyn. A bit of the glow had warn off forever. But we survived. We survived Rosslyn and were stronger because of it. 

We never forgot that moment, but we honestly hoped that it would be one of a kind. We prayed that we would never have to go through that again. 

Those prayers were not answered. 

Years went by, we lived our lives and Rosslyn faded into the background. We never forgot, but it soon became a nightmare, something that belonged to the past and which we had overcome. 

None of us ever imagined that the horrors of that night would have to be relived. But they were. 

Many years had passed, Bartlett had long ago left office and had since then left this Earth as well. Josh was now the President. I know, I never actually figured out how we convinced more than half the country to vote for him, but somehow we did it. We were given the chance to give it another try; to finish some of the things that we had never gotten a chance to the first time around. 

And then the nightmare became real again. Bullets were fired again. This time because there was a group of men who did not like the Jewish President. 

It was so like Rosslyn, it was eerie. 

Except, this time, Joshua Lyman escaped physically unscathed. It was his wife who was hit. 

Donna took a bullet to her spine. She would live, but she would never walk again. And as the bullets were fired, the memories of another night filtered through Josh. 

That night was a nightmare not just for us, but for the American people. 

The First Lady was paralysed, her husband suffering from an episode of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that had not bothered him in over a decade. Three Secret Service agents were dead, so was one innocent bystander, and the man who held the job that had been mine during the Bartlett administration. 

That year had been an election year. 

Josh was in the middle of his reelection campaign. He withdrew. Josh's Vice President became President that November. 

Josh left the White House in relief. After that night, it was the last place he wanted to be. 

Josh aged so much in that one night, just like he had aged after Rosslyn. He died not too long after and Donna followed him within weeks. 

I know that the wounds left by Rosslyn had been blown wide open that night and haunted them for the rest of their lives. 

I know that it was the same for me. 

Twice in my life I stood and heard the sound of gunfire. It is something I hope that most people never have to experience. 

Nor do I wish anyone would have to experience the horror of the aftermath, of waiting to hear if someone who love will live or die. 

Twice I went through that. The first time, I still believed that we might be able to change the world. The second time I knew better. 

I was once called an idealist. Maybe so, but not any longer. 

Those ideals were shot to pieces, just another victim of gunshots. 

The End 


End file.
